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Bergen. “I love Bergen,” I say with a grin.

I really don’t know how Bergen managed his way into my book. Knowing him, he probably slipped in through the back when I wasn’t looking. As I broke and shaped my story, I worked and warped it around him not entirely aware that he was there. I think I even shaped him and reset a few of his bones before finally going, “Hey! Where did you come from?”

As the story developed, so did Bergen’s and quickly. And more so than Rune’s, which is odd because Rune is more of a prominent character than Bergen…for now anyway. Don’t get me wrong, Rune has his back story laden with turmoil and hell, but in comparison Bergen’s hell far outstrips Rune’s. Rune was cut and dry. “Here” is his lot. “Here” is where he’s been his whole life. “This” is Rune’s motive, his goal, his dreams, his determination. Bergen? Not so simple. Nothing about Bergen is simple.

“That’s right,” he says and shrugs, “Simple is boring. I don’t like boring.” He pulls out a flask of mead and grins. “Besides, that’s not what you want.”  He has that wild look in his eye again. He’s looking for trouble.

I had Rune’s back story planned and formatted since day one. He developed alongside Kallan and grew as she did. When Kallan changed, Rune changed.  But Bergen? Bergen evolved right up to the epilogue. Bergen is still evolving. He actually has four stories that I haven’t told. I’m not sure if I’ll be telling two of them.  Not “in-story” anyway.

Bergen is wild, crazy, unnerved, too gutsy for his own good, and he always knows what he’s doing.

He grins from behind the flask and another idea comes to me.  I need to teach him a lesson.